Fortune Favours the Bold
by Fowkc
Summary: ARM has prevailed on Hydross, but a new Core threat looms in the ocean depths...
1. Default Chapter Title

Home sweet home

"You have control, X.O. Take her into dock." Ordered Captain Hunter

'Aye sir, I have control." The Executive Officer started giving commands below. Captain Hunter looked up from the conning tower of his Lurker. This was the best part. He could just admire everything he had helped gain. Slowly, out of the fog the harbor entrance appeared, then some patrolling Skeeters, and finally, the arm fleet. It was a welcome sight. His boat was badly damaged. Three weeks at sea had proved tiring for the crew, especially as his sub was level one. Still, he'd got twelve kills, and half were level two ships. 

"We didn't do badly at all,'' he thought. His sub cruised past the harbor gate, with its silent Punishers and Sentinels. A single captured Gaat Gun lay on one of the piers, looking very out of place in the middle of an arm stronghold such as this. His sub moved further on through the array of naval units. Three Executioners passed his lurker, casting dark shadows over him. A squadron of Hawks shot across from left to right, followed by an airforce of Lancets, Phoenixes and Brawlers, gray silhouettes in the fog above the boat. 

Far off in the distance, he saw a rocket fly vertically into the air, its flaming exhaust lighting up the sunset. Hunter froze. Was the Core attacking? The rocket changed trajectory, and disappeared behind the harbour wall. Seconds later, the missile hit its target. Clouds of smoke rose skywards, followed by a light rise in the wind, which carried the smell of hypergolic propellant, then a faint rumble. He waited for the proximity alarm to ring throughout the base. From below, he heard the crew preparing to face the enemy. Then a computerized voice boomed a message through the speaker system, "There is no need to be alarmed. A Ranger missile ship is test firing." The crew was relived. But it was a scary reminder of what was to come. Hunter didn't like to think about that too much. 

A Construction Ship was busy using its acid-green nanolathe on an immense Warlord battleship further on into the harbour. Slowly, its hull plating materialized out of the flowing green wash. His sub turned to port, and a shipyard appeared. A whirring noise started, and the outline of a Crusader flashed up. The Lurker slowed down, and eased into dock. Three loud bangs signified the sub was safely in dock. A squad of Peewees clanked noisily along the pier next to the boat.

"Well Mr. Green, it's been a long tour of duty." Mortimer Green was the boat's executive officer, a young man, who had come fresh from cloning, and had matured a lot from the fresh-faced cadet Hunter had received just three short weeks ago. But then, so had everyone. The battle had been tough, with both sides taking heavy losses. But Arm had prevailed on Hydross. Just. Now, the core threat would have to be neutralized once and for all. It wasn't going to be easy.

"Sure has, sir. We did a good job."

"For a level one sub, we did superbly. 12 kills and two were unaided." Hunter was very proud of his boat and crew, and he didn't mind showing it.

"It's just lucky we had you as Captain sir." 

"You won't have me anymore. You're the Captain now. Keep her safe for me."

"I'll do that sir. Good luck." Hunter thought the X.O looked quite nervous. He couldn't blame him.

"Same to you." replied Hunter.

Captain Hunter waited for the gangway to be extended, then saluted his XO. He walked off the gangway into his Jeffy. His chauffeur drove him off to the naval headquarters to receive his command. All around him, brown and white suited personnel hurried down narrow passageways and along asphalt lanes, carrying all manner of equipment in standard issue boxes. The whole port was alive with excitement and a good amount of fear for the coming battle. Hunter still wondered why he was being transferred. There was no need for him to. He was perfectly capable of handling a Lurker. He'd better not be getting promoted. Admiral was just another word for desk job. He was already missing his ship. Hunter's scout turned into a large courtyard where he departed his vehicle, and strode up the gritted path to the massive newly nanolathed headquarters of Arm Naval Command. The huge automatic doors, large enough to allow a commander through, whirred open, and Hunter entered. Walking straight to the lift, its mind-reading circuits found his floor, and quickly whisked him to the top of the building.

"Captain Hunter, reporting as ordered sir."

"Sit down there, Mr. Hunter," replied an aging admiral Immerson. Hunter knew he was looking at a seasoned war veteran, who had commanded massive war fleets all across the galaxy. If Immerson was briefing him, his mission must be very important, possibly vital. That didn't make him feel any better.

Hunter sat in the cold, hard metal chair of the new office that admiral Immerson had claimed. Framed pictures of smoking core wrecks, hulk transports, ranger missile ships and all manner of naval craft adorned the paneled walls. He was handed a situation report. His eyes quickly darted over the relevant information, as the admiral began his briefing.

"As you can see, our commander recently captured a leviathan sub that ran aground on the other side of the island. We now know the leviathan submarine represents a grave threat to our forces on Hydross. Recently, a single one wiped out an entire squadron of four lurkers. It's going to be your job to disable the threat until we build up our forces to attack the core fleet in force."

The admiral got up and walked over to the digitized map of Hydross on his wall. He pressed three buttons, and he outlined the mission.

"You'll take the captured leviathan, and sail to the supposed location of the core base. Don't arouse too much attention, just concentrate on getting to their base. Once there, take out the advanced shipyard. That should be enough to allow us to get to full strength before the core forces attack. I don't need to tell you, this mission will be extremely dangerous. If you don't want it, you don't have to take it. There's a command waiting on a piranha."

Hunter eyed the map. The core base was just over two thousand kilometers south. If the plan went topsides, he'd have to run for a while. Still, he thought, it was possibly the only way that they were going to win on Hydross. Why not go for it?

"I'll take the mission Sir." He answered, with a degree of apprehension.

"Good man Hunter. You've been ordered to get under way at 0700 hours. Start covering the equator around sections ten through fifteen. Get going Captain. And Captain, good luck."

'I'll need it.' thought Hunter. Twelve ships had been lost in section ten...

Four hours later, Hunter's personal Jeffy drew up in front of the leviathan. The rain was pouring down on the boat, glinting in the light from a nearby sonar station. Hunter addressed the assembled crew.

"Welcome to the ball, gentlemen. From seven o'clock, we are officially part of the Core navy. Apart from the fact that we aren't gonna be patterned."

Hunter waited for the laughter to subside, and then he called the executive officer, to start the Arm navy chant. This was shouted before every mission, and he couldn't remember a time when it hadn't been that way.

"Mr. Clarke!"

"Yessir!" The X.O was stock-still as he barked out the words.

"You're aware why we're here aren't you, Mr. Clarke!"

"Very aware sir!"

"It's a proud cause isn't it?"

"Very proud sir!"

"It's to save fine people!"

"Very fine people, Sir!"

"Who live on an outstanding planet!"

"OUTSTANDING, Sir!"

"In the greatest galaxy in the entire universe!" 

The speech was reaching a peak, and Hunter could almost feel the pride of the men below.

"In the entire universe, Sir!"

"And what's that cause, Mr. Clarke?"

"Freedom Sir!"

"And what do we say?"

The whole crew joined in the chant. The noise filed every hole and crevasse on the base. If the core forces could hear it, they'd know they were in for something big.

"For freedom! Arm freedom!"

"Chief of the boat, dismiss the crew."

"Dismiss the crew, aye sir. Department heads, ready for departure, crew-FALL OUT!"

The crew of the leviathan ran up the gangway into the sub. Whilst in the mixture of shouting and laughing, they all dreaded something, Hunter knew it. They were going to war.

An hour later, the Leviathan was cruising south, with an escort of two crusaders. Again, Hunter was on the conning tower, admiring the view. The sun was slowly rising, shading the early morning clouds with pinks and oranges. Birds wheeled around the ship, looking for the odd morsel of food that may be dropped. They weren't going to get any. He finally decided it was time to submerge the ship. He hated it. Going from the warm morning air and the spectacular sunrise, to the cold, sterilized air of the ship, and the green murky waters of Hydross. But, he had to do it. Turning on his communication suite, he dialed up the two crusaders that were sailing with him. Two faces appeared on his holo-monitor.

"Captain Richards, Captain Shamus, Thank you for the service. We're submerging now. You may return to base."

"Good luck Captain." said Richards.

"Good luck Hunter. Catch you on the flip side." came a reply from Shamus. The two Crusaders swung away from the Leviathan. They were alone.

"X.O, take her down." The captain climbed down the ladder to the main bridge. Above, the X.O prepared to take the ship down.

"Lookouts, clear the bridge" he ordered. The three lookouts tucked their holo-binoculars away, and dropped into the ship. 

"Helm, five degrees down bubble." The huge foreplanes of the sub dragged the bow into the water. Clarke took one last look at the sunrise, and entered the ship.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Tossed salads and scrambled eggs

Five days later, the leviathan was cruising south. Lieutenant Freeman was in sonar. The last few days had been uneventful, but he was still cautious, and it was just as well. Sipping his coffee, he heard a faint sonar echo to port. Examining it closer, a red blob appeared on his monitor, with some scary information. This is how it went:

Class: Shark (Core L2 sub)

No: 4

Allegiance: Core

Dist: 5 km

Bearing: 265 

Heading: 314 

Threat: High

Recommend: Ultra-quiet, Arm torpedoes

Evasion depth: 1207 ft

Evasion hdg: 134 

Freeman quickly called control with the information. His mike was shaking as he scanned and read back he necessary information.

"Conn, sonar, four shark class submarines at two-six-five degrees, range five kilometers. Recommend rigging for ultra-quiet and arming torpedoes. Best depth and heading for evasion, 1207 feet at one-three-four degrees."

At the conn, things started happening. The crew knew exactly what to do, as they had done it many times before. Hunter started giving orders:

"Rig for ultra-quiet, arm torpedo tubes one and four. Make normal one-third turns, come about to one-three-four degrees, make your depth 1207 feet, smartly." The helm officer gingerly eased his control stick forwards. The engine tone changed as the drives slipped into quiet mode.

Freeman, down in sonar, spotted the Sharks turning to port. He picked up the mike, dropped it, and then picked it up again. Shaking, he shouted into the microphone:

"Conn, sonar, I think they've spotted us! They're turning toward!"

The four Sharks streaked through the water. They could go a lot faster than the Leviathan. But they also died a lot easier. They opened their torpedo hatches. Bubbles of gas blurted out of the tubes and torpedoes screamed towards the Leviathan. Hunter's personal war had begun.

"Conn, sonar, four torpedoes in the water bearing two-four-one!"

On the bridge, Hunter acted quickly:

"All ahead flank! Right full rudder! Target the lead sub!" A green box appeared on the bridge sonar screen around the lead shark. Four red blips drew slowly closer to Hunter's sub.

"Lead is targeted, Sir. Tubes ready to fire!"

"Fire one and four!"

"Fire one and four, tubes fired electrically, sir!" 

The lights blinked off, then on again, as electricity was shunted to the launchers. Two torpedoes streaked from the hatches.

"Conn, sonar, four torpedoes inbound two-hundred meters, closing fast!"

"Deploy countermeasures! Rudder amidships! Sound the collision alarm!"

An alarm blared throughout the boat. The crew hung on to whatever was nearby. From small holes, canisters of compressed gas created trails of bubbles, hopefully providing a more tempting target. The four torpedoes continued on their course. As they neared the leviathan, they tracked towards the bubbling canisters, and they exploded three hundred meters away. A slight shockwave tipped the boat, and Hunter wondered how much the leviathan could take.

"Conn, sonar, all four torpedoes neutralized!"

"Sonar, Conn give me exact ranging and speed on our weapons."

"Range three hundred meters at fifty knots!"

"Ready to arm torpedoes, sir!" reported the weapons officer. Hunter could see his hand poised over the blinking button. If he armed the torpedoes at the right time, the Shark wouldn't have time to react. The torpedoes, not being armed, went right past the Shark's countermeasures.

"Arm torpedoes one and four... now!" ordered Hunter.

"Torpedoes locked on the Shark!" The green box turned red.

The crew of the Shark had a split second to evade the torpedoes. They didn't take it. Hunter's timing was impeccable The first torpedo narrowly missed, but the second slammed into the hull, and exploded, ripping the attack sub apart. A compression wave ballooned out from the Shark's reactor, and caught its neighbour. The second boat shuddered sickeningly, before it too exploded, sending out more debris into the ocean.

"You got two of them Sir! The other two have moved outside sonar range."

"They know we're coming. Let's get in and get out. Fast. Full speed to the core."

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To the end...

The Leviathans' sonar saw the shipyard. Hunter saw two smaller red dots next to the large contact of the shipyard. They were torpedo launchers that protected it. As the shipyard came into torpedo range, Hunter remembered the sub had an unbearably slow rate of turn, (the arm sailors had nicknamed the boat the 'Swimming Goliath') and he would definitely take some damage, but it couldn't be helped. He could run, and probably make it outside of their torpedo and sonar range before they fired too many torpedoes. He hoped.

"In torpedo range, sir"

"Fire all tubes!" Four torpedoes were fired from the wings of the Leviathan. The boat shuddered in their wake.

"All tubes fired. Torpedoes on remote guidance." The torpedoes would guide themselves to the target. Hunter wondered if the core tracking systems were up to the task. Nonetheless... 

"Get us out of here!" The pilot slammed the control stick to the left. Twin rudders on the back fought against the wash from the engines. The leviathan turned agonizingly slowly to the left. The torpedo launchers managed to get two torpedoes away, before the lumbering sub crawled out of range. 

"Conn, sonar torpedoes in the water, bearing one-two eight, one three-seven!"

"We're not gonna outrun 'em! Brace for impact" Hunter held tight onto his chair. A bead of sweat clinged to his brow.

The two torpedoes impacted against the engine housing. Two fireballs erupted out of the hull, and the sub shuddered and rocked. Smoke poured out of the rear of the gargantuan boat. Sparks flew from a nearby computer console, and a thin line of smoke rose from the blackened panels. Debris snarled in the engines, and the drives wheezed in and out of life, before they finally gave out. The boat slowly sank through the water.

"Propulsion, Conn, restore engines as soon as possible." Ordered Hunter over the intercom. A faint voice answered back.

"Conn, propulsion, restoring engines as soon as possible, aye sir!"

Hunter eyed the depth gauge. It read two thousand five hundred feet. The ocean floor was at four thousand. Doing some quick mental arithmetic, he estimated they would hit the bottom in four minutes. He started his stopwatch.

Three and a half minutes later, the crew in propulsion were still battling to clear out the last piece of debris from the engines. The drives were revved to full power to push it out into the ocean. Slowly, it buckled under the strain, and there was an unbearable creaking noise, which resounded throughout the boat, with a loud bang, the piece of metal was dislodged. The enormous fusion drives slowed the descent. The massive sub eased itself onto the seabed. It could still take some punishment. 'Incredible machine' thought Hunter. Any lurker would have gone down long before now. 

"Get us out of here. Chief of the boat, make your depth one-five-zero feet, full power to the drives. Helm, plot a course for home." A chorus of 'aye sir' followed, and the boat raised itself up off the seabed, and away.

But it wasn't over. Sonar reported two piranhas on intercept, no doubt ready to avenge their comrades' death. They closed in slowly on Hunters' sub. They were just outside torpedo range, when Hunter heard two splashes through the hull.

"Report!"

"Torpedoes sir, from bombers. I don't know which side though sir." Stuttered the weapons officer, in an obvious predicament. If they turned, the attack subs would catch them. If they remained on course, the torpedoes could turn out to be Core...

"Steady as she goes."

"But sir..." came a cry from the weapons station.

"Steady course, zero-one-zero degrees. Understood?" shouted Hunter.

"Aye sir."

A new threat had appeared for the core subs. Two torpedoes shot through the water beside the Leviathan. Both struck their targets at the same time. The blackened wreckage of the piranhas drifted for a while, before settling on the seabed, sending up clouds of sand. Two lancets streaked off into the distance. The smoking leviathan surfaced, and limped for home.


	2. Default Chapter Title

Captured!

Captain Hunter was terrified. And that didn't happen often. He didn't know what he was terrified of exactly, because he couldn't see or hear anything, but he knew he was terrified. He knew that outside his cell was a fate worse than death. Because he had been captured by the Core.

It had happened, he guessed, about three or four days ago. There was no way to keep time in this cell. There was nothing in this cell. Just black walls and the glowing red eye of a surveillance camera mounted ten feet above him. He had been captured while commanding an aircraft carrier on its way north. He didn't know how, but a small Core fleet was waiting. The two Hawks aboard were wiped out in a matter of seconds by anti-aircraft ships. Core forces quickly took over the boat, and disengaged the self-destruct. Hunter and some officers managed to evade capture for a while, in the lower decks, but soon, they were discovered, administered with drugs that obscured hearing and sight, and taken aboard the Core ship.

All Hunter wanted to know was why did it happen? How did Core know where they were? There was a radar jammer aboard, and there were no known security breaches. It was a complete mystery. Also a mystery was his location. He hadn't been moved, in fact, he hadn't even seen another person since he had been led at gunpoint to his cell. He didn't know where he was at all. But that was about to change.

'A.K Group 14 Alpha, Move to cell 35J.' said a metallic voice inside a metallic head. Circuits whirred for half a nano-second, and an equally metallic reply came back.

'Affirmative'

A group of A.K bots clumped down a corridor towards Hunter's cell. The first raised its arm towards a scanner, and the door slid open. Inside, Hunter was nearly blinded by the sudden light streaming in through the door. 

'Take prisoner 35J to scanning room.'

'Affirmative'

Hunter could just hear the voices, because his hearing was only just returning, but he knew all about the scanning room. Everything he knew, he didn't like. Only one person had ever escaped from a scanner alive, and this was how their story went. Basically, the scanning room connected the brain to central consciousness, without being patterned. Core could not pattern Arm soldiers due to sophisticated techniques used on every new clone. Any patterned Arm soldier could unleash chaos on the Core. So Core scanned every synapse of their brains to unravel the secrets of Arm, while not transferring a single memory engram to the central consciousness. This caused intensive neural shock, and usually resulted in paralysis, sometimes death, painful death at that. And this was going to happen to Hunter. He closed his eyes, and wished he had died with most of the personnel on the Colossus carrier.

The four A.K bots surrounded Hunter and walked him down a long corridor. Hunter still didn't know where he was. There were no windows; indeed, along each wall ran wires, power conduits and all manner of electrical equipment to convey the will of central consciousness. Hunter thought about trying to disable some of them to aid escape, but it would not work, he knew. Back-ups were running already, he guessed. The Core took no chances. He fell deeper into despair. He rounded a corner, and saw, at the end of the hall, a door marked in Core trinary code. He couldn't read it, but he knew its meaning. Death.

Hunter struggled on a hard steel table in the scanning room where the A.K bots had deposited him. When he arrived, strong hydraulic arms forced him onto the table, and clamped him down with inch-thick metal straps fused into the table. The table was floodlit, but he could not see beyond it. Around the table lay black, and more black. If this room was supposed to induce fear, it served its purpose. Hunter started struggling against the table. He knew he couldn't get out, but he struggled all the same. He struggled until a warm green light flooded the chamber; several probes whirred down from the ceiling, and began to drill into his skull. Hunter screamed for a moment, before his entire mind was run through in less than a second.

Escape!

"Arrrrghhh!" screamed Hunter as he jolted up from his sleep. He was still alive. He didn't know how. The scanner had worked, he supposed, or Core would have tried again. Maybe they had kept him alive, for some unknown reason. It had been three more days after his capture, and for those three days, since his visit to the scanning room; he had had vivid nightmares every time he closed his eyes. And when he went to sleep, they became so real that he could not distinguish between them and reality. Except that the things inside his head never happened in reality. He had to get out of the Core… The Core, whatever it was. Base, ship, home planet, he still didn't know. But he had to get out. The nightmares drove him crazy. He tried not to sleep, but in the end, every time, he collapsed and fell into a perpetual hell. So he had to get out. He started jumping for the security camera on the ceiling. He jumped, and jumped and jumped, but he would never reach it. It still hung there, blinking mockingly. Hunter knew what he had to do. He would do anything to stop these nightmares. Placing one hand on his chin, and one on the back of his neck, he looked up at the camera on the ceiling. "Is this what you wanted?" he shouted, furiously at the unwavering eye above him. "You can have it!" He was about to break his own neck, when the door hissed open in front of him. A single AK stood in the doorway, which started spraying gas into the chamber. Hunter managed to think 'They want me alive' before he passed out under the heavy sleep agents that poured into the cell.

"Mr. Hunter. Hunter, wake up. Captain Hunter, CAN YOU HEAR ME?" As he drifted in and out of consciousness, Hunter could make out the shape and voice of a male officer. He struggled to lift himself up off the floor and saw that the person was an Arm navy commodore. He half-saluted, still half-asleep, and almost fell over again.

"No need for that Mr. Hunter. We've got to get you to the medical ship."

"Where am I?"

"In the Core base. Don't worry, we've taken it over. There's an entire fleet out there."

Hunter was about to ask more questions, but he slumped into the commodore's arms, and started snoring loudly.

Later that day, as the sun settled on the horizon, Hunter was escorted to the briefing room, where he was sat in front of three admirals. The first he recognized as his friend, Patrick Immerson, an old man now, but a potent commander, nonetheless. The other two were unknown to him, but they were both quite young, with traditional Arm outfitting. If their hair wasn't a different colour to the other, they could have been twins. No, they were twins. Strange. Clones didn't have twins. At least, clones from the same pool never worked together. But he didn't think any more of it. The three admirals shuffled their papers and looked up in preparation.

"Mr. Hunter, you have been called before this board to examine the events after your capture on the third of November. We've read your report, and we have some questions for you." said Immerson.

"I'm ready." replied Hunter, even though he wasn't.

"First, we would like to know why Core chose to keep you alive after the scan. You wrote that you had, and I quote, 'no idea' about the reason why they kept you alive. Are you sure you can't think of a reason?" 

"Only that I have something they want, sir, but I can't think of what that could be."

"Mister Hunter, there must be something you can tell us."

Hunter couldn't understand why they were putting so much pressure on him. They knew Core would not give anything away so carelessly.

"Maybe Mister Hunter would like some more time to rest. He looks tired."

At that moment, Hunter realized he was tired, and decided he would like to retire.

"Yes sir, I am."

"Fair enough, Captain Hunter. We'll meet again in the morning."

Hunter stood up and walked out the door. All around him, things seemed blurred and out of focus. He managed to make it to his new quarters, collapse on the bed, and find himself totally incapable of getting to sleep.

The morning after, Hunter was still lying on the bed, dizziness washing over him like he was at sea. (Actually he was, but stabilizers kept the Conqueror he was on as steady as a rock.) So why was he dizzy? All through the night, the ceiling of his quarters were blurred, and sometimes seemed to zoom right up to him face, then draw back to what looked like a million miles away. Why? The effects of the scanner should have worn off. He got up groggily. Struggling to see the medical surgeon, he felt a sharp pain in his left arm, before he keeled over onto the cold floor of the corridor.

"Mr. Hunter. Hunter, wake up. Captain Hunter, CAN YOU HEAR ME?" As he drifted in and out of consciousness, Hunter could make out the shape and voice of a male officer. He struggled to lift himself up off the floor and saw that the person was an Arm navy commodore. He half-saluted, still half-asleep, and almost fell over again.

"No need for that Mr. Hunter. We've got to get you to the medical ship."

"Where am I?"

"In the Core base. Don't worry, we've taken it over. There's an entire fleet out there."

"What?"

"You're in the Core base. It's all right Captain."

"No, No it isn't. I've been here before."

"What do you mean? Come on, we've got to get you to the medical ship."

"You've said that before. What's going on?"

"Hunter, can you hear me? Hunter?" This was a new voice. It was vague and far away. No one was there to say it.

"Who are you?"

"Who is who, Mister Hunter? You're obviously a bit confused. Come on. This way."

"No. What's happening to me?"

Again, he felt a sharp pain in his left arm, and he collapsed onto the floor of his cell.

"Mr. Hunter. Hunter, wake up. Captain Hunter, CAN YOU HEAR ME?" As he drifted in and out of consciousness, Hunter could make out the shape and voice of a male officer. A male officer? Again. The officer began talking, but the speech was distorted and slow. But then, the officer did something that even Hunter was not ready for. He disappeared. One moment he was there, and the next, he was gone. Then the room disappeared with him, and Hunter's view changed to the door of a room that looked terrifyingly familiar. Hunter bolted upright in his seat, or at least he tried to he was held down by the same inch-thick metal straps that had held him down before. He was back in the scanning room.

"It's OK Hunter, take it easy. You'll be alright."

Hunter looked over at a young man in uniform, clearly not the officer he had seen several times in his cell. He was leaning over a cavity in the wall, filled with innumerable circuits and dials. 

"What's happening?"

"You're in the scanning room. We've been trying to get you out. That's why the program is… screwing up."

"Who are you?"

"We're Arm forces. Don't worry. Stay calm Captain. You might experience some more flashbacks. Try to stay calm." The young man was wrestling with wires inside the cavity. Sparks flew out of some machinery on the other side of the room.

"No! I'm still inside central consciousness! You're illusions!" The metal bars dug into Hunter's skin as he struggled.

"Mr. Hunter I can assure you we're not. Just a few seconds and we'll have you out."

"No! Let me out!" The metal straps were lacerating his arms.

"That's what we're trying to do. Hang on… There!"

The man pulled out a chip from the wall cavity, and all the machinery in the room powered down. Hunter was still furiously trying to escape, so the young man calmly injected him with a sedative in his left arm. The same pain swept over him, and for what felt like the thousandth time that day, Hunter's world went black. 

Real Virtuality

Later that day, on the Arm fleet, Hunter was getting more agitated with each passing second. Was he still in the Core base, hooked up to some infernal machine, being tricked, or was he really on the Arm fleet, and sailing closer to home? There was no way to tell. Or was there? He wondered just how realistic the Core simulations were. After all, there had already been one mistake, the two 'twins' at his debriefing. If he could trick the Core computers, he would find out where he was. And he knew how. At that moment, an officer walked in to escort him to another debriefing. This time, two generals were waiting for him.

"Mr. Hunter. Glad you could join us. I understand you've had an interesting few days. Could you start from the day you left port."

"Yes sir. I was assigned to captain a Hulk transport…" Hunter was about to continue when one of the generals interrupted him.

"Excuse me Mr. Hunter, but I believe it was an aircraft carrier you were on board."

'Damn.' Thought Hunter. One to them.

"Yes, sorry Sir. An aircraft carrier. Colossus class. We were sailing south when we where attacked by Core forces. I don't know what they attacked us with."

"Mr. Hunter, you were sailing north. I know you are trying to trick us, but it won't work, because you are out of the Core base. I know it must be hard to accept, but think about it. You're not passing out anymore, and you aren't skipping through time anymore. You have to trust us." The Admiral looked at him in a very sympathetic way. Hunter couldn't help laughing at himself. He pulled himself together, and said, "Yes sir."

"Can you tell us how the Core fleet might of known your location?"

"If there was a traitor on board, I guess…" Hunter trailed off. One Admiral looked slightly accusingly at him. He was the only person to survive the attack. He knew he wasn't a traitor, but someone was. And Core would have killed the traitor after he was no longer useful. That very fact meant he was not one. He explained all of this to the Admiral, who agreed with him.

"Yes, Mr. Hunter. You cannot be a traitor. They need you alive for another reason. What exactly happened to you in the scanning room?"

"I was strapped to a table, and probes started drilling into my head. Then I blacked out."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hunter, did you say your head was drilled into?"

"Yes sir. It's in my medical report." The Admiral looked through his papers for a folder labeled 'Hunter, James Daniel, Hydross Clone #3988, Medical Report' He opened it, and scanned over the information.

"Your report states that you do have several puncture wounds in your skull. But we know that the scanning process does not require anything of the sort. You may remember Lieutenant Zimmerman. He was the only person to escape from a Core scanning room. He was not drilled into. God forbid! You could have had any number of devices implanted in you."

"Why didn't our scanners detect them?" Hunter asked.

"There may be any number of devices that our scanners can't detect. We have some of our own for use against the Core." Hunter started looking nervous.

"Well… can you detect them now?" Just as Hunter finished, he heard a slight rumble, which quickly amplified into a shrill whistling, and then a large explosion rocked the Millennium.

The Battle

"Red Alert, Red Alert, We are under attack by Core forces. All crew to battle stations." Shouted a voice over the intercom.

"That'll have to wait Mr. Hunter. Please, I'm sure you could be of use on the bridge."

The three men raced to the bridge. This bridge was nothing like the naval bridges of millennia ago, but was basically a large circular room, with a three-dimensional holographic image of the battle projected into the air. A large collection of blue dots represented the Arm fleet. A much smaller group of red dots showed the Core ships. The attacking fleet was small, with about ten ships and five submarines in all. The Arm fleet was fifty times the size, and the Core fleet was already running. Several ships were chasing, as well as twelve Lancet bombers. About twenty personnel were busy working on the bridge, all of them issuing orders to the fleet. Hunter had never been on the bridge of a Millenium, but he had used similar systems in the past. He occupied an empty station, and surveyed the holo-map. 

"What's ahead of the Core fleet?" asked a Vice-Admiral opposite Hunter.

"The Mison reefs are ten kilometers to the north-east." Answered a cadet.

"Instruct the pursuing group to force them north-east. See if we can trap them." Ordered another Admiral. The cadet repeated the order through a hand-held microphone, then went back to his work. Hunter saw twelve dots advance ahead of the fleet, no doubt the Lancet bombers. Twelve smaller yellow dots appeared as the Lancets dropped torpedoes. Immediately, the Core fleet swung to the northeast to avoid the torpedoes. When they reached the reef, the Arm forces would trap their ships. Their ships would be trapped… Trapped… A subconscious thought struck Hunter as the Admiral ordered the ships to close the line-of-sight range.

"No!" Hunter shouted suddenly. "No, Pull them back off the reef."

"Mr. Hunter, control yourself! Whatever is the matter?" exclaimed the Admiral.

"Those attacking ships broke away from those torpedoes too soon. It's not right. That pursuing group is sailing into a trap!"

The Arm ships sped on towards the Core fleet, which was now running along the reef in an attempt to circle it. On the radar map, a small discrepancy caught Hunter's eye.

"There! Computer, replay radar log from ten seconds ago, slow-motion, and magnify the Core ships!"

The map flickered, and started to play back the radar images. Hunter eyed the map carefully, concentrating on the Core fleet. Then he saw it.

"There! Pause image!"

On the radar display, two Core ships were missing, their locations marked by yellow crosshairs.

"Radar jammers!" shouted the Admiral. "Pull our ships back! Compute the location of their radar jammer. All units, long range shelling on that position."

The huge battleships of the fleet shook as white hot plasma shells accelerated out of massive guns. If anyone had been standing on the deck of one of those ships, the temperatures would have been more than enough to vaporize them, and the noise would have literally shaken their eardrums apart. And these balls of plasma now flew towards the Core fleet. Ten ships would have missed the radar jammer from that distance. Twenty would have been lucky to damage it. Thirty would have destroyed it in the end. But the combined firepower of sixty vessels took out the ship by sheer saturation, along with several other craft. The radar display lit up with red dots. They were moving around the reef. Orders started flying through the air again.

"It's a trap!" shouted an Admiral. "All ships, prepare for battle. Launch all aircraft." 

"Ranger groups one through five, compute trajectory for anti-missile fire."

"Skeeter groups two and twelve, the Enterprise has her left flank unguarded. Get over there."

"All submarines, attack depth."

"Construction ships, keep tight to your assignments."

All around the Arm fleet, torpedoes were loaded, missiles were prepped, and aircraft launched. Then came the announcement everyone had been waiting for.

"Enemy has been engaged."

The first weapon fired was an air-to-air missile. Actually, several hundred air-to-air missiles were fired simultaneously, and past each other in mid-air, while some collided head-on. The fighters split off into groups and engaged. Slow moving torpedo bombers were easy prey for both sides, and so wave after wave was shot down. But more made it through, on both sides. Torpedoes were dropped, and the lurking submarines dived quickly, but not quickly enough to escape. In turn anti-aircraft missiles took out hundreds of bombers as they turned for another attack run.

"One hundred-ninety-six fighters destroyed sir. Core losses were one-fifty-two, but they lost more bombers." Said a female cadet.

"Thank you. Order Skeeter group twenty-one to help those fighters, but keep their eyes open for more bombers."

"Aye sir."

By now, several long-range missiles were flying towards the Arm ships. Missile ships fired to intercept them, but some missiles still made it to their targets. Two missiles hit Hunter's millennium, but the quantum molecular shielding would take much more punishment.

"Damage was negligible sir. Shielding is at ninety-three percent." Someone reported over the intercom. 

"We need those missile ships destroyed. Ranger groups ten through fifteen, launch on those Hydras."

At the rear of the fleet, the huge launch doors of the missile ships opened, and the giant missile towers raised missiles to the sky. Sixteen million tonnes of hypergolic propellant burned in three seconds as the missiles streaked into the sky leaving clouds of grey smoke behind them. At the peak of their first stage, the missiles slowly traced an arc in the sky, before more propellant accelerated the missiles towards the Hydras of the Core fleet. The Hydras launched their anti-warhead missiles, but the Arm missiles were more numerous, and the Hydras were quickly sunk.

Next came the submarines, silently advancing on the Arm fleet, which was still on the defensive. Torpedoes glided through the water, and Piranhas, Lurkers and Sharks took each other down, while the survivors quickly targeted their next victim. Above the submarines, Lancet bombers dropped more torpedoes onto the Core submarines. Depth charges splashed into the water from Conquerors and Crusaders, and slowly the Core boats were overwhelmed. 

On the surface, the two fleets were getting ever closer. Plasma shells flew across the diminishing gap between the fleets, tearing molten chunks of armor from whatever they hit. Skeeters met Searchers and the close in fighting started. Two Millenniums fired six shells each at an Executioner cruiser, which lolled sickeningly, before it exploded and its carcass capsized. Six Searchers sped towards a Crusader and ripped it apart with their lasers. The Gaat guns on the Warlord battleships activated, and the familiar 'Scree! Scree!' of their lasers rendered the air. Green bolts of energy swept over Hunter's Millennium, as it took out a Warlord with six more shells. Two Executioners brought their guns to bear on the Millennium, and quickly tore down the armor around it.

"Get bombers on those cruisers! Prepare to evacuate the ship!" shouted a vice-admiral, as another three plasma blasts rocked the boat. A squadron of Lancets turned towards the two Executioners. Missiles flew up to greet them, and three were taken down, before the rest dropped torpedoes and broke off. As the torpedoes hit home, a flight of Brawlers came skimming over the waves, firing EMG's all the way. A gaping hole opened in the first Executioner, and an explosion ripped it in half, before the two parts exploded. Debris from the first, which was travelling at mach speeds, ripped into the second's hull. The Brawlers dived almost vertically onto the ships, before pulling out at the last second, as the second ship caught fire. Out of control, with the crew unable to control it, the Executioner rammed into a Warlord, and both ships blew up. There was almost nothing left of Hunter's Millennium. Pieces of armor hung from holes in the deck, and three of the six guns had been blown completely off the ship by shelling, while another had crashed into the deck the ship. The Core fleet was ignoring the ship for now, which gave the crew time to escape. There were no lifeboats on the Arm fleet; instead, small escape pods were contained inside the bottom of the hull, which the Arm sailors now occupied. The bridge was the last station to be evacuated. The Admiral, whose name Hunter had learned was Johnson, stayed behind with Hunter and a vice-admiral to engage the ship's self-destruct.

"Computer, this is Admiral Johnson, engage self-destruct sequence, authorization Beta-Zulu-Nine-Three"

A red light lit up on the display the three were standing over.

"Computer, this is Vice-Admiral Charmers, engage self-destruct sequence, authorization Gamma-Epsilon-Four-Four"

A second light lit up.

"Computer, this is Captain Hunter, engage self-destruct sequence, authorization Delta-Tau-Zero-Seven."

The final red light blinked on. The computer chirped in, "Awaiting final instructions and identification." Admiral Johnson placed his thumb on a blue pad. It did not read his fingerprint, but read his DNA, and matched it to his profile.

"Authorization cleared." Said the computer.

"Computer, set self-destruct for five minutes. Set course for the middle of the Core fleet and engage emergency drives."

"Course set. Self-destruct will commence on your command." Said the computer. The three men ran down to the elevator, which carried them to the lower decks. They stepped out, and walked into the last escape pod. As the pressure seal hissed closed, the Admiral gave the order.

"Computer, final authorization, Johnson-Alpha-Epsilon-Four-Eight. Engage self-destruct and launch all escape pods."

"Self-destruct engaged. Five minutes to fusion-core overload."

Fifty small hatches opened up in the bottom of the hull. Cylindrical pods buzzed out, and followed a pre-programmed course to safety. On the surface, the Millennium's emergency fission drive accelerated the ship towards the heart of the Core fleet. It rammed two Searchers that weren't quite quick enough, and drove on. Several ships fired at it, but to no avail. Three minutes and thirty-one seconds later, the fusion control rods were pulled out of the reactor.

Three milliseconds later, the engineering deck ceased to exist. At ten milliseconds, the explosion caught the fission drives, which also exploded. At fifteen milliseconds, the explosion ripped off the outer hull of the Millennium. Another millisecond and it was vaporized. The explosion was transmitted through the water, and the Core submarines that were close enough were ripped apart. On the surface, a wall of heat blasted across the sea, leaving a huge circle of boiling water in its wake. The first ship to be hit was an Enforcer, and in five seconds, all that was left was a smoking lump of molten metal. The wave hit the Core fleet in full force. Aircraft tried to escape, but many were too slow, and could be seen spinning wildly, before flashing into atoms. Nothing within five miles of the explosion survived. Debris and smoke were sucked into the vacuum left by the explosion, and a mushroom cloud rose into the sky above the remains of the Core fleet. Hunter's escape pod lolled and vibrated as the remnants of the shockwave passed. Safely away from the battle zone, Hunter's pod surfaced, and the three men climbed out of the hatch to observe the battle. There were no three-dimensional displays on the escape pod, but a simple radar screen showed them all they need to know. The Core fleet had a large hole in it, ringed by red dots that had escaped the full force of the explosion. These red dots were now trying to run from the vastly superior Arm forces. Hardly any survived.

"Now, Hunter, we have to get you to the Savior, quickly." Said the Vice-Admiral, activating the locator beacon on the pod.

"The Savior?" asked Hunter.

"Oh, yes. You wouldn't know. The Savior is our new medical ship. She's a refitted Hydra class. Vast improvement over the old Crusader types. We'll get you scanned there."

"Look!" said the Admiral. "Here's the Atlas." A small aircraft droned towards the pod. Its three engines rotated to a vertical position, and it stopped directly over Hunter's head, and extended its four powerful electromagnets.

"Patch me in to the pilot. He'll take us directly to the Savior." Said the Admiral. The radar screen changed to an image of the Atlas pilot when Hunter flicked a switch. "Pilot, this is Admiral Johnson. What are your current orders?"

"Search for and collect all escape pods from the Millennium sir."

"Are there other Atlases covering the operation?"

"Yes sir. There are four more out here."

"In that case, your orders have been changed. Take us directly to the Savior."

"Aye sir. Atlas out."

The screen blanked out, and the Atlas descended onto the pod. The three men dropped back into the hatch and closed it, as the pod raised out of the water and into the magnetic field of the Atlas. The three engines rotated to the horizontal, and the Atlas slowly made its way back to the fleet. From the escape pods window, Hunter could just make out flashes of light against the darkening sky, as the last few ships of the Core fleet fought on to their demise.

Home, but not alone

Several billion tonnes of exploding hydrogen nuclei rose over the oceans of Hydross, and managed to look slightly damp. Dawn over Hydross. Clouds covered the sky from horizon to horizon, and made the whole victory seem depressing for the Arm sailors. The fleet was sailing back to port to be rearmed and repaired. 

Over the night, Hunter had been put through the most extensive testing program ever devised. The thermo-imaging scanners could now detect differences of a billionth of a degree, and it was these that had pinpointed the molecule-sized nanoprobes inside Hunter. The process was tedious, and it required canceling out the temperature changes that the body made during its normal processes, and locating the sub-atomic machines that left trails of heat in the body as they observed everything that happened to Hunter, then transmitted this information back to central consciousness. These telltale trails of heat could have been mistaken for capillaries with the old scanners, with could only detect millionths of a degree, but these new scanners eventually tracked down four nanoprobes, which had cleverly attached themselves to red blood cells in an effort to avoid detection. Unfortunately for them, it also provided an easy way to remove them. A simple injection and the offending blood was removed from Hunter, and destroyed. 'Destroyed' however, didn't mean what it used to mean when things were atom-sized. If you vaporized the material, the bots could still survive. So after that, the material was passed through the fusion core of the ship, subjected to magnetic field stresses that could tear apart a Commander, then finally, passed through a electric current that burnt up enough energy per second to light New York for a couple of million years. Arm took no chances. 

Hunter was allowed to leave the ship in the evening, and the first thing he did was to get some sleep. He found some empty quarters, undressed, and climbed into the bed. He was surprised to find a naked woman in there with him. Even more shocking was the fact that when she kissed him, he couldn't feel her lips. 'Hologram' he thought. He opened the cupboard in the quarters, and found a holo-projector with the words 'God speed to whoever finds this! 27th Medical Corps.' He really couldn't do with something like this tonight. He was about to shut it down, when the hologram spoke up,

"What are you doing?"

"Deactivating you. I'm not in the mood for this sort of joke tonight."

"I've been programmed for this! What else do you expect me to do? Be a cook?"

"I expect you to be deactivated quickly." Hunter reached for the off switch.

"Now wait a minute…" said the hologram, before Hunter turned her off, and she blinked into nothingness. Hunter got back into his bed, and got to sleep.

When he woke up, the fleet had arrived back in port, and had split into several sections for repair. The port was the only piece of dry land on Hydross, barring a few reefs here and there. Hunter had only been here once before, when he had received his command on a captured Leviathan half a year ago, just after Arm had arrived on Hydross. Now, he was walking up the familiar footpath that led to the Arm headquarters, to receive a commendation for extreme bravery against the enemy. He walked into the commander-sized doors, and looked over the delegation that was waiting for him. On each side of the lush carpet that led to the podium, Arm officials stood at attention, with medals and awards dangling from their chests. Hunter walked between their ranks, and they saluted him as he walked up to the podium, where his friend Admiral Immerson was waiting for him. Immerson pinned a medal to his chest, and Hunter bowed before the delegation. He was thinking whether he actually deserved it, having lost the carrier, and it's crew, and also having given away the location of the Arm fleet. But the riotous cheering and clapping that started drowned these thoughts out, and he was swept into the moment, and left for the post-ceremony party. The rest of the night past in a haze of vague sounds and visions.

Hunter woke up strapped to the radio mast of a Crusader, naked except for a pair of pants emblazoned with a logo stating 'Lancet 64th squadron rules!' and a pair of boxing gloves on his feet. His head was throbbing like crazy, and when he shook his head, something pulled on his hair. Running his hands through his hair, he found a model of a Lancet glued onto his hair with blue chewing gum. Clearly the pilots had been at him. He managed to work himself down from the mast, and get back to his quarters onboard the Savior. He had obviously been there during the night, along with the Lancet pilots, as more logos and banners lay strewn over the floor. He heard a soft moaning sound coming from the cupboard, and when he opened it, a giggling pilot fell out, very drunk, and started singing incoherently. Falling onto the bed, he passed out. As Hunter picked him up and carried him to a medilab, all doubt was cleared from his mind. He was home.


	3. Default Chapter Title

Somewhere over the seas of Hydross.

…Computer control engaged.

…Altitude has passed safety limit. Automatic ascent system enaged.

…Primary system has failed. Engaging secondary systems.

…Secondary systems have failed. Firing braking thrusters and deploying flotation devices.

…Emergency systems have failed. Transmitting aircraft log to satellite.

…Transmission failed. Launching message buoy.

…Launch failed. Engaging self-destruct sequence.

…Self-destruct terminated by command authority Beta Six.

…Altitude now zero f//////////////……………………………………………………………………...

Prelude to Armageddon

Island defense fleet, Medical ship Salvation

Hunter's fleet was slowly patrolling near Hydross Island. It was the only piece of dry land on the planet, and two whole fleets had been assigned to defend it. It was on one of these fleets that two top secret research projects had just been completed. One was at the bottom of the ocean. One was the Neuron stabilizer. If you could find god in technology, Hunter believed that he had found it. The neuron stabilizer was a magnificent piece of medical and mechanical engineering. It could completely restructure a person's mind, if necessary. By simply activating specific electrical signals, useless neurons could be deactivated, and new 'blank' neurons could be taught whatever was needed. An Arm foot soldier could now be taught, for example, to fly a Hawk fighter, or command a submarine. Things that would have taken weeks to learn before now took mere minutes. 

Hunter was still slightly disconcerted about using it, but he knew it would benefit him in battle. So he went along with all the volunteers (the process was very discomforting to some, and too much like patterning for others), and decided to find out how to fly. The device was basically a hollow sphere, with the bottom cut out, and the patient wore it like a helmet. The room was only about two meters square, and was bathed in a blue light. Hunter lay on the soft velvet chair in the middle of the room, and the helmet swung down gently over his head. He chose the program he wanted from a small touch screen on the chair, and waited. In a moment, blue lasers hummed over Hunter's head, removing and adding memory engrams directly to and from Hunter's mind. He could feel all the wasteful parts of his memory being wiped. The recipe for minestrone soup, his first date, the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody and everything that needed to be wiped. In its place, he felt new memories being put into place. Atmospheric equations, how to fix a damaged fusion drive, different weapon modes, energy and turning fights and thousands of other details that had made Arm pilots so successful. 

The process was finished in about five minutes, and Hunter walked out of the laboratory with a very different perspective. He looked out of the window, and instead of seeing just a squadron of Brawlers, he saw a flight of armored gunships, in a standard echelon formation, patrolling in a circular orbit. He couldn't wait to try out his new skills, so he got a transport to the nearest group of Colossus carriers. He wanted to fly a fighter and managed to work his way to getting a seat in a Hawk stealth jet. He looked over the array of instruments. An hour ago, they would have seen bewildering to him, but now, he knew each one's function perfectly. He flipped two red switches, and the fusion drives wound up from standby to half-power. He turned the electronics master switch to on, and the cockpit lit up with digitized dials and displays. Hunter picked up a small circular piece of plastic, and placed it on his right eye. Instantly, a heads-up display flashed across his face, and the computer switched to defense mode, ready for combat. In the wings, the first pairs of air-to-air and air-to-ground missiles were nanolathed and prepared for launching. Hunter radioed control. "This is Hawk one-zero-five, request launch for flight testing."

"One-zero-five, clearance granted. Launch at your discretion." Came the reply.

"Launching now. One-zero-five out."

Continuing with startup, Hunter depressed the engine exhaust to eighty degrees, and moved the power to full. The powerful magnetic clamps that held the plane in place were powered down slowly, and in response, the Hawk climbed into the sky. As the ground speed passed one hundred knots, Hunter moved the nozzles to thirty degrees, and lowered the nose, so as not to stall the plane. At five hundred feet, the nozzles were retracted to horizontal, and the Hawk accelerated up and away into the sky. Hunter decided that he would mix business with pleasure, and thought that some target practice would not go amiss.

"Control, this is Hawk one-zero-five."

"One-zero-five, pass your message."

"Request practice drone information." There were always drone aircraft flying around the fleet. Their official use was to trick enemy aircraft, but bored pilots often used them for target practice.

"One-zero-five, there is a drone in your five o'clock, distance thirteen kilometers." At once, the radar scanned the spot, and picked up the drone.

"Acknowledged Control. One-zero-five out." The drone was a good deal higher than Hunter was, so he entered a climbing turn, and quickly got up to fifty thousand feet. From there, he entered a dive towards the drone.

"Arm air-air missiles," said Hunter, to the computer. A red targeting diamond appeared on Hunter's HUD, which turned blue as he approached the drone. A percentage display indicated the missiles had a chance of sixty-two percent of hitting the target. Hunter fired at ninety. Two hatches burst open in the wings, and a small missile dropped out of each. Hypergolic propellant burnt, and the missiles shot towards the target, ahead of the fighter. A commonly held misconception is that missiles aim for their target. In fact, missiles compute where their target will be in a few milliseconds, and aim for that point, in the same way that you must lead with guns. The primitive computer in the drone turned itself away from the first missile, which detonated a meter away from the craft. The force of the explosion was enough to rip the wings off the fragile craft, which started spinning towards the sea. The second missile missed, and turned around in a wide arc. It was half way through its turn, when the fuel ran out, and the missile self-destructed. Satisfied, Hunter made for the ship.

When he jumped out of the cockpit, a Vice-Admiral ran up to him shouting, "Where the hell have you been Hunter?"

"Sir… I've, um, been testing out my new skills, you know, with the Neuron stabilizer."

"You're lucky you need those skills, or I'd put you on sanitation duty! There's a mission you need to be briefed on. Report to the briefing room in one hour." The Admiral turned stiffly, and walked away.

"Yes… Sir." Said Hunter.

One hour later, Hunter was assembled in the briefing room with a handful of other naval officers, six in all. Hunter did not recognize most of them, but one he knew was an old shipmate and friend, Lieutenant Ted Hanson. Hunter walked through the collection of men to talk to him.

"Hi, Hunter!" greeted Ted. Ted Hanson was not a man you could ignore. He had once rammed his Lurker into a Searcher, because his torpedoes had missed. The Lurker, as Hunter recalled, was still being repaired. But the Searcher, well, the Searcher turned out to be personally transporting a Core vice-commander, and had been fitted with ten inches of reinforced quantum molecular hull plating. Hanson had now accepted the nickname of 'The Dentist'. He was a big, bulky man, with a ginger beard and moustache, bald on top, and had a voice the size of a small planet. You couldn't help but like the guy.

"Hanson! How are you?"

"Fine. Just been to that Neuron stabilizer thing. Learnt to fly, don't you know!"

"Really? Me too! What did you used to do?" Hunter wondered whether everyone else had learnt to fly too.

"I captained a sub. Hey, you did too, didn't you?"

"Uh… Yeah, I did. Do you think that's why we're here?"

"Don't know, don't know. Ah. Here comes the Admiral."

An Admiral walked in, someone Hunter didn't know, and began the briefing. This Admiral was just the kind Hunter didn't like. He didn't beat about the bush, he just explained what they had to do, took questions, and then left.

"Morning men. For those who don't know me, I'm Admiral Graham. OK, men, you have been picked as an elite squad, who have extensive knowledge of naval methods, and can also pilot our aircraft. What you are about to see must not be discussed outside this room. Start the playback." The Admiral moved to the side of a holo-screen, which flickered into life. Hunter saw a Lancet bomber splash into the sea, clearly intact, and the scene changed to a schematic of a weapon Hunter had not seen before. The Admiral started narrating.

"The bomber you have seen was carrying this weapon. It is an experimental device code-named Vesuvius. It is designed to create a massive earthquake in areas that are not located near fault lines."

The screen switched to a simulation of the weapon being deployed. The weapon entered the water, and when it reached the bottom, it drilled itself into the seabed. A few seconds later and the seabed shook violently. As dust clouded the screen, once again, the screen changed, this time to a map. It showed the location of the bomber.

"The weapon was to be delivered by the Lancet, unfortunately, it was disabled by a new Core device. We do not know exactly how this device works, but it must be destroyed. At this time, the bomber is on the seabed, with this weapon still in its bomb bay. A salvage op must be mounted immediately." 

"Excuse me, Admiral?" said Hunter. "Why didn't the self-destruct go off?"

"We can assume that the Core device transmits a code that can duplicate command codes. This device must be destroyed before any salvage can be attempted. I say now that this operation is very dangerous, and is entirely volunteer. Here's what will happen should you join the operation."

The map rotated and zoomed in and out as the Admiral continued the briefing. First it zoomed in on a Core fleet.

"This small fleet is believed to be the location of their jamming beam. It is located on an Enforcer at the center of the fleet. Two pilots will fly Lancets at low level to destroy the ship. The other four of you will create a diversion by attacking the northernmost section of the Core fleet. Assuming you are all in. Then a submarine will recover the weapon, while Hawks provide cover. Task force twenty will attack the Core fleet to prevent them from reaching the sub. Any questions?"

An officer at the back of the room piped up. "Two Lancets against a Enforcer?"

"They will have an escort of several Peepers, and will be armed with high-yield torpedoes. One warhead from each will destroy it."

"But why such a small force? We could attack with a large fleet instead."

"We mustn't bring Core reinforcements into this sector. Any attacks must be small. That is also why we are only using one task force, and one submarine. Unfortunately, this means a high risk factor. But it is the only way to recover that weapon. And it must be recovered. All those willing to take part in this mission, stand up now."

The chairs in the room clattered as everyone stood to attention.

"Good. Hunter and Hanson, you two are the most senior officers here. Are you willing to fly the two Lancets?"

"Aye sir" said both.

"Right. The rest of you will create the diversion. Report to the flight decks of carriers one, two and three for immediate launch." The Admiral quickly left without another word. The small group of men left for their carriers.

Troubled Waters

Six Lancets launched from their carriers, made formation, and started to make their way to the Core fleet. Thirty Peepers flew around them on autopilot. The Core fleet was half an hour away. The time was only thirteen hundred hours. Hunter had only known how to fly for ten hours. The fact that he knew what he was doing didn't help him at all.

Thirty minutes later, the group split up. Four Lancets broke off and went to attack the Core fleet. The two that remained prepared to go undercover at mach four.

"Hanson, switch to mission stage, drop to two hundred feet, increase speed to mach four."

"OK Hunter."

Both of them flicked switches on their control panels. The aircraft systems prepared to engage. The high-yield torpedoes were armed, and the dampening systems that had kept the aircraft stable were disengaged for high-speed. As the two planes dived, boosters accelerated them to mach four. At this speed, a turn over two gravities would rip apart the plane. If the Enforcer was not destroyed the rescue would have to proceed with a jamming beam directed at the Hawks. The submarine would undoubtedly be destroyed. 

"We're at two hundred feet, mach four. Thirty seconds to target."

A recticle appeared over the location of the Enforcer. The peepers were almost being shaken apart by the speed. But the peepers wouldn't be around for long anyway.

The first ship that fired was a Searcher. The missile narrowly missed a peeper off Hunter's port wing. Within seconds, missiles were flying everywhere, and peepers were blown apart everywhere Hunter looked. But he kept to his objective. At mach four, he could be ten miles away before the core guns could turn around. He saw the target ship ahead. It was a bit bigger than an Enforcer…

"Hanson, we've got a Executioner! Disengage torpedoes. We'll have to find another way."

"Roger. Continue on this course till we're past their weapons range."

The Lancets rocketed over the Executioner and the rest of the Core fleet. Hunter felt his ship shudder once, and then again, as two missiles exploded behind him. As soon as the planes were safely out of weapons range, Hunter radioed command.

"This is Captain Hunter, sir. The target ship is an Executioner. We cannot destroy it with two torpedoes. We have to call off the mission."

"Negative Hunter. That ship must be destroyed. I don't care if you have to crash your planes into it. Just get it done!"

The radio went silent.

"Sir? Sir! Damn. Hanson, we cannot abort. There is another option."

"Let's hear it."

"If we drop our torpedoes so they hit the jamming equipment itself, we needn't sink the ship."

"But that would mean flying high and slow over the Core fleet. We'll never survive."

"It's the only chance we have. Even ramming the Executioner wouldn't sink it."

Hanson paused for a moment.

"OK, Hunter. It's your call. I'll follow behind you, and drop when you do."

"Gotcha. OK, we'll need to be at two thousand feet, start a climbing turn back to the Core fleet. I'm gonna reorganize those Peepers. There's only twelve left!"

On board the rescue submarine Titus, things were not boding well. Captain Herbert had still not received the code for mission success from the Lancets, and he had no abort order either. So it looked like he was going into an area that Core torpedo bombers would heavily patrol. Worse still, he had to stop right in the middle, and let robo-divers collect a weapon from a crashed aircraft. He hoped that ship would be destroyed soon.

"Latest status?" he asked his XO.

"The Lancets are attempting another run sir. We need that ship destroyed."

"I know, I know. Let's try directing those four Lancets to the back end of the Core fleet. Some ships might turn around to provide cover."

"Aye sir. Relaying orders."

The four Lancets received their orders, and started moving to the rear of the Core fleet. Meanwhile, Hunter and Hanson were at ten thousand feet over the Core fleet. They both looked down on the ocean below.

"OK Hanson, target's coming up. Peepers are in position below us. Ready to drop?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Standby…" The computer in Hunter aircraft beeped once, sending a message to Hanson's aircraft. Both of the released their torpedoes, which angled into harrowing dives. Passing them halfway, a torrent of Core missiles flew up towards the Lancets.

"Hanson, incoming fire! Dive for the floor, and keep above those peepers!"

The two planes entered into steep dives. The first few missiles, caught out by the direction change, flew behind them, and the next few slammed into the screen of peepers that were under their wings. A missile caught Hunter's port wing, making his aircraft spin and shudder, before he stabilized it, and continued the dive. Two missiles got Hanson's aircraft, and Hunter could see the glowing debris fall away from the underside of his plane. Eyeing his altimeter, he gently eased back on his stick, pulling the Lancet out of the dive. Looking to his left, Hanson was still at the same angle, plummeting towards the sea.

"Hanson, pull up!"

"I'm trying to, systems are out. I'm ejecting!"

The cockpit of the Lancet shot away from the aircraft. Parachutes billowed out, and it was pulled away from the falling fuselage, from which the wings had been ripped off. The Lancet crashed into the ocean below.

"Are you alright Hanson?" asked Hunter.

"I'm fine. Just make sure that equipment gets destroyed. I'm about to hit the sea."

Hunter looked down to see Hanson's pod splash into the ocean. Looking behind him, he could see two specks slowly falling towards the Core ships.

Colonel Adrian Warrell was having a hell of a time. His group of four Lancets was down to two, and him and his co-pilot were desperately trying to distract the Core ships. Missiles saturated the sky around them. They were both at low level, weaving around the Core ships, but even so, their aircraft would not last long. Their aircraft swept alongside the Executioner, which vainly fired a plasma shell over them. At the same time, two black tubes fell from the sky.

The first torpedo hit slightly left of center. The explosion ripped a hole in the hull of the cruiser, sending metal and sparks flying. The large dish that housed the jamming equipment was bent and twisted. A wave of compressed air was forced out of the melee, shaking the ship, and then the second torpedo struck the dish itself. A whole section of deck was ripped away by the explosion. The dish caved into the ship, setting alight several plasma chambers as it did. The next explosion dwarfed the first two. The plasma, eager to release its energy, ignited at once. The engineering deck's outer hull was blown off in a series of massive explosions, as tank after tank ruptured, sending super-heated plasma bursting through whatever it touched. Within seconds, the deck became nothing more than a shell. Colonel Warrell struggled with his Lancet at it was hit by a series of powerful compression waves. His co-pilot had been closer to the ship, and the first torpedo had caught his Lancet. His plane had emerged as a ball of burning metal, which crashed screaming into the sea. Warrell ejected, but his pod was even more susceptible to the blasts, and it was forced into the sea at a suicidal two hundred miles per hour.

The compression waves were transmitted even more through the water. An underwater wave raced away from the ship, rocking the Core ships, before it hit Hanson's pod. All Hunter heard was a faint scream, before the boiling waters engulfed the cockpit. Hunter could not believe it. Those three lives were his fault. He had decided on the plan to drop the torpedoes, and he had not seen the Lancets heading towards the Executioner. He should have been much more alert. He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. Then a missile whistled past him and he realized that closing his eyes was a bad idea, and merely breathed deeply. Looking back at the Core fleet, he could see a column of smoke rising from the deck of the Executioner. That dish must have been directly linked to their power core. Two torpedoes would never have done that much damage. If he had dropped them on his first attack run, he would have been killed. Maybe his luck was in today, even if it wasn't for others. He banked sharply to the right, and headed for task force twenty, which was still heading for the rescue operation.

The Titus was almost at the Lancet when Captain Herbert received the code for mission success. He was incredibly glad. The jamming beam had taken down all the Hawks, and twelve Titans were heading his way. The sub eased itself to a halt ten feet from the seabed. "Deploy the divers."

Four small robots dived out of hatches on the bottom of the submarine. Immediately they latched onto the torpedo that had fell onto the seabed. Slowly, they began to ease the torpedo upwards.

"Task force twenty, this is Lancet 240, Captain Hunter onboard. Request permission to land and take a Hawk to the battle zone."

"Lancet 240, it's good to see you. You have permission to land. A Hawk will be prepped immediately."

Hunter slowed the Lancet down, and let the ship's computer guide the aircraft in. Hunter jumped out of the plane as metal clamps rose to hold the plane in position. He ran through to the other launch pad and climbed into the Hawk fighter that was waiting for him. He launched immediately, and his Hawk shot towards the rescue zone. Five minutes later, his radar picked up the twelve core torpedo bombers that were headed towards the Titus. He turned to intercept them and dived to pick up speed.

Looking up, he saw the bombers, all outlined in blue. The nearest showed a probability of seventy percent. Hunter chose high-yield missiles. Each one was capable of taking out a Titan. But he had to be close. The bombers were in an echelon formation, and were also stacked at different heights. That increased the time it took to lock onto the next one. Hunter had to work fast. He swung around the bombers, and fired at the leader. The missile sunk below the horizon for a moment, before it swung up, and slammed itself into the underside of the bomber. Debris shot past Hunter's Hawk. By that time, Hunter had already targeted the next, and fired. Hunter cursed as the missile missed, but smiled as the radar tracker detonated the missile, spinning the bomber wildly towards the sea. The next three planes were taken out in a similar fashion, but by that time, the remaining Lancets had already dropped a torpedo each. Seven torpedoes were more than enough the kill the Piranha. Hunter pressed the Hawk into a shuddering dive. The torpedoes were automatically targeted, so Hunter selected standard missiles and fired as fast as the small nano-lathe in the plane could make new projectiles. However fast he was, he could not stop two torpedoes from splashing into the waves. The sub's commander would have to take it from there.

"Conn, sonar, torpedoes in the water, directly above!" shouted the sonar officer.

"Full speed! Launch starboard countermeasures! Helm, port two-zero degrees!" ordered the Captain. The robo-divers would switch to their back up programming, but that would make them much more vulnerable. The torpedo had become embedded in the sand, and it was going to take time to shift. But there were currently two other issues to deal with. Those two issues were streaming through the water towards the Titus. Clouds of gas were pouring from countermeasure canisters, and one torpedo exploded as it went past them, triggered by its sonar. The second torpedo managed to get within fifty feet of the Piranha, before the last of its fuel ran out, and it exploded. The compression wave caught the Piranha violently, throwing the crew about. 

"Damage report!" shouted the captain. The lights faded on the bridge, and sparks flew from a console.

"We've lost main power!" Returned an officer. "That Hawk had better kill those Titans before they attack again."

After their first attack, the Titans had split up to avoid Hunter's Hawk. One missile from Hunter's Hawk, and only six more remained. It would take too long for him to hit all of them, Hunter realized. But if he use dumb-fire missiles, he might just hit them, or at least distract them for long enough. The nanolathe removed the targeting computers from the missiles. Hunter could now fire two missiles every second, the nanolathe being that much faster. The next Titan banked around to begin its attack run. The wide body made for an easier target for Hunter. He fired ten missiles into the bombers turn, and faced the next bomber. He grinned with satisfaction as his computer showed his missiles destroying the first bomber. The second one was still facing away from Hunter, so he left it, and saw that the next three bombers were ready to drop their torpedoes. He took careful aim, and fired at the nearest. Seven missiles missed, but three struck the bomber, and it exploded immediately. The next bomber was a bit more cautious. As soon as Hunter fired his missiles, it turned sharply away, but being a Titan, its turn was not sharp enough and two missiles struck. Its pilot gained control, but that bomber would not be dropping anymore torpedoes as long as the underside didn't exist. The third bomber had already turned away, seeing the demise of its wingmen. Hunter decided he was close enough to try a shot. All the missiles missed, but the bomber would not be a threat for at least thirty seconds, and thirty seconds was an eternity as far as air warfare was concerned. It was enough time for Hunter to take out the Titan that he left, and then face the seventh bomber, which had just dropped a torpedo. Hunter slammed the joystick forwards, selected guided missiles and chased the torpedo downwards. He fired missiles as fast as he could. The torpedo, unlike an aircraft, could not change course, and the missiles hit it with ease. Hunter pulled the Hawk up, and pointed at the offending bomber. It was now speeding for the Core fleet, but it could not get close to the speed of a Hawk. Hunter got within a hundred feet, before he let loose four missiles. The Titan's engines blew up as the last missiles hit. The bomber exploded violently in front of Hunter's plane.

Hunter was about to head back to task force twenty, when he saw a small blip on his radar display, for just a second. He checked the spot where he had seen it, but the computer showed no contact there. He must have imagined it. He scanned the skies visually, but could see nothing. He changed course, and headed for the task force. Fifteen seconds later, he thought he was about to die.

Vamps are menacing things. Not just because they are stealthy. Not just because they are fast. Not just because they are lethal. It was mostly because they are made out of a metal that looked as if it had been molded in hell. If you incinerated a Vamp, it wouldn't look much different. The fighter is covered with ghastly protrusions, like a Swiss army knife with all the attachments pulled out. Fear was very much struck into the hearts of the pilots that had to face them.

Ten Vamps shot past Hunter's Hawk, each one as black as night. The peeled off, and engaged Hunter. He actually smiled as a missile rocked his plane. They could have easily killed him from behind. It was lucky patterned minds still had some sense of honor, or at least a sense of humor. Hunter flashed around, and got two missiles off at one of the Vamps. But even Hunter could not win against ten fighters. Within half a minute, his plane was on fire, and he had no control. He pulled the red eject lever that lay between his feet, and the cockpit of the Hawk was blasted away from the fuselage. Four parachutes billowed out from the top of the pod, and Hunter gently splashed into the sea. Above, he could see the Vamps circling like vultures. One 'vulture' unexpectedly blew up.

"Captain Hunter, this is Colonel Scott Thomas. We are engaging the vamps now. A rescue aircraft will arrive as soon as they are down."

Hunter searched the sky, and counted twenty Hawks shooting their way through the Core planes. Within minutes, all the Vamps had been destroyed, barring two that had fled when the fight had started. If the Arm fighters didn't catch them, central consciousness would probably execute the pilots. Central consciousness would not be happy today. 

"Captain Hunter, this is what you have helped to save." An Admiral unveiled the Vesuvius torpedo. It was around two meters in length, and covered with a slightly transparent shell. The audience in the hall cheered him as he walked up to the podium where the torpedo lay. It had been two days since he was picked out of the ocean by an Atlas transport, and flown back to task force twenty. He was now back at port, and he had been given the honor of sending the torpedo on its way. He opened a small panel on the side.

"Mr. Hunter will now activate the torpedo, and our pilot will fly it to a Core base."

Hunter keyed in his access code, and the torpedo lit up with fiber-optic lights. A conveyer belt took it through a hatchway, and into the bomb bay of a Lancet. The planes' engines fired, and it took off into the night sky. A squadron of Hawks surrounded it, and together they flew towards a Core target. The torpedo would be set off as precisely midnight. At eleven fifty-five, the admiral patched a large screen into an orbiting satellite. The Lancet, together with its Hawk escort, was leaving behind a small slug-like object, hanging from a parachute. It entered the water with a soft splash, and three minutes later; the screen showed froth building on the water. Within seconds, a huge fountain of water erupted from the sea. For a few seconds, everything was dark. Then, a brilliant white light filled the room. When everyone took their hands away from their eyes, a mushroom cloud was rising over the spot where the Core base once stood. The Admiral spoke again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Vesuvius device. This core base had been totally decimated. The device uses a fusion weapon to create earthquakes. On this planet, we have little use for this type of weapon. On other planets, conventional nuclear weapons are not practical. By converting these weapons to Vesuvius devices, we can help bring and end this Core contingency.

Hunter smiled as the audience rose to applaud the Admiral. As the last wave from the explosion gradually waned away, he knew that he would have to learn a lot more. 


End file.
